WHEN all is done, and my last word is said, And ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead," Let no one weep, for fear that I should know, And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so. When all is done and in the oozing clay, Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away, Pray not for me, for, after long despair, The quiet of the grave will be a prayer. For I have suffered loss and grievous pain, The hurts of hatred and the world's disdain, And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and pure, Had not the pow'r to ease them or to cure. When all is done, say not my day is o'er, And that thro' night I seek a dimmer shore: Say rather that my morn has just begun, -- I greet the dawn and not a setting sun, When all is done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL THE FACE ON THE [BAR-ROOM] FLOOR by HUGH ANTOINE D'ARCY SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DAISY FRASER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MEADOW STREAM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN IN PRAISE OF HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW THE FOREST RANGERS by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. DRINKING VERSUS THINKING; OR, A SONG AGAINST THE NEW PHILOSOPHY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |